Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1887-08-26
lie Fills Dl' JOUR DE Ian.

-Inu Ralsslae.
lie Fills DT JOUR DE Ian.
In the autumn If 1850 was spending
r few weeks al the Hotel Christol in Bou-
ioEnc-sur- Mer. which is bu: a short dis
tance by rail from Calais. This seaside
resort is a favorite place for both French
and English invaliis, because the air is
generally fresh and well charged with
that understandable but perfectly well nm
LeTstood invisorating element called
oEone. There is very lii le in the Bas
: Vile that is of interest 10 visitor. except
the EtabliSSemcnt lie Mel. "A large build
Ing and garden at the mort lcrn end of the
town. which are sacred Ia the pleasures Of
( the elite There they dance promenade,
/ flirt, play billiards, hathe or spend hours
/ III the luxurious reading room. perusing
the Journals of all parts Of the civilized
/ world.
i II 81 happened that NJ the period Of my
+ visit To Boulognc the weather was almost
continually had. The rain fell. the chill
and damp winds swept disagrecably
/ through the streets, and everybody seemed
/ To he on the verge Of dying Of cnnui l..
. WITH tlhtiS. WIS tiit
nose against the hotel window pancs of
the general reception room. watching the
shipping on the Lame or the blue hlnusGd
Ouvricr- as they Clattercd IN their ,ah"ts
( through the splashng streets Suddenly
the clouds broke u, and the sun shone
brilliantly shortly aftcrward a crowd of
men and women approached the hotel
across the I.ianc'S swinging bridge. They
~ in, of ,.rf
and the object of their excitement seemed
to he in their midst, for the women, men
and children ceased their chattering every
few moments to cast their eyes down or 10
point their finger AT something or some
body that was moving along in the center.
The procession of enthusiasts moved on
until they came 10 the quay. Then they
turned 10 the left and Disappeared in the
Halle dcs PoiS>onS. All could observe in
the midst of this picturesque crowd WIS Il
little boy. probably 10 years of age, who
walked with his eyes fixed steadily before
him as if he were totally unconscious of
anything unusual going on around him
His face which was very regular, pale and
beautiful. struck me as being somewhat
uneartLly-as if it We're tinged by some
influence from heaven or that mysterious
although regarding it he may have "a
thousand fantastic and unstable fancies.
What a singular lookins childr' eX-
claimed to French gentleman standing
next TO me at the window. The poor boy
is evidently insane"
Pardon me. monsieur" my companion
replied; the child is not insane. That is
lttlc Jacopo, lie fils lu jour de Ian, who
is positively adored by the poorer classes
in this part of the country"
The child Of the New Year, eX-
claimed, transla;inc my friends remark.
What a singular name. What does it
all mean,''
Come with me" said my companion.
''We'n proceed, if you please, to the fish
market, wh2rc. no ioIbt, you Will find the
fish women bowing and dancing and
throwing flowers on little Jacopo''
We proceed TO the Halle des Poissons.
The sight that met my eyes was some
thing it would be very difficult to forget.
There stood the strange child. with the
pure white hair in the center Of group
of excited men and women whose bare
arms showed that they had just left their
stalls. They We're throwing flowers at
him and praising him in eXtravagant
Of them, but kept gazing before him, and
every few minutes exclaiming in kind
Of ecstasy: Claire ma Claire" His dress
was singularly neat. but Of colorless white.
while his long hair fell over his shoulders
untrameled by cap of any Kind.
That boy" said my friend. "has a
wonderful story III connection with his
short life, an these poor people look upon
his presence among them Us good omen
At this moment they arc blessing him for
that burst Of sunshine which. IA few min
utcs ago. helped - make our lazy life en-
durable up there at the Hotel Chrstol."
In the drawing room of our hotel my
friend told me the story Of poor Jacopo:
Four years previous 10 the events herein
narrated .Iacopo WIS left an orphan. to
gether with his only sister. Claire Both
belonged TO the Haute Vile that fruwus
down upon us up there if in lis pride of
age il scorncd this plchc an Bas Vile. They
became 50 attached to each other that
they werc inscparahlc and the ueighbors
loved them for their beauty. their limo
cence and their affection. The children
wandered hand in hand for hours through
the quiet old town. At times they
were found playing among the sand ac-
cumulated in front Of the Porte Dune.
with its heavy and grim portculliscd
gate: at others they played in front of the
queer little house where Godfrey de
Bouillon. the first crusader king Of
Jerusalem, Thousand years ago, was
born: but above all they loved TO stroll
through the cathedral, gazing with awe
al everything-thc great gold candles, the
splendid affairs. the valuable pictures Of
Christ and the Mother of Sorrows the
blue spanClcd arChed roof with the yellow
stars, and the gruesOme offerings made by
patients who had been cured Of mulatlies
by persistent appeals to some favorite
saint. They even spent hours among the
;rypts. where endless tolnbs and a few
slots in the damp. bare walls made every
thing look SO weird and supernaturilly
solemn that, except in the daytime. not
even the braveSt of the residents of the
Haute Vile would venture among them.
These children, however, were too innocent
TO know fear. And so they went along to- |
gethCr hand in hand through the grass |
grown Old streets OF Godfrey's birthplace.
But one day Claire died. She was o q,
plonde and Jacopo was dark. At first the |
hid Jacopo could not understand what |
iad become of his beloved sister lie |
wv her little body st-ewn with fresh cut
overs and the charlet of snow white
overs that surrounded her marble brow
here the yellow silk hair strayed down
gcc.t. He touched her face and cried:
Claire, my Claire. why do you not speak
- mc: Ii is only me, little brother ia
'obo, And when no answer came from
he little dead body, his paroXysms Of
,rief became So violent that the good
ledrtcd ncighbors said he would surely
ill himself. and carried him away
One day the now utterly forlorn child
vas walking, half sobbing through a
narrow old street, where queer gabled
louses cast fantastic shadows along the |